


Weirdo Werewolf

by gracefulally



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Implied Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, The Alpha Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles gets kidnapped by one of the Alpha Pack, he finds out that some puppies are ridiculously evil and that Derek Hale is a freaking weirdo werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weirdo Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idontwannaberobin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=idontwannaberobin).



Stiles was thirsty. He was famished and exhausted, too, but the dehydration made the delirium so much worse. His entire frontal lobe throbbed relentlessly — sometimes in-time with his pulse and sometimes with a flutter that was blinding.

Well, the pain would be blinding if not for the pitch darkness of the hood over his head. The thick canvas was suffocating and reduced his parched breath to shallow wheezes that were smothered by the sweltering heat bolstered by the now dried snot and tears on his face.

There was a crust on his swollen eyelids that itched and the sting of his split lip made him want to cackle in agony because though this situation was terrifyingly real, he was desperate for the torture and abuse to be a horrid dream that he was going to awake from at any moment. Each time Stiles blacked out from the strain on his beaten body, though, he awoke to the same scenario: standing with his wrists shackled high above his head, his feet bared and spread by a metal bar with ankle shackles while they just kissed the floor so he was forced to stay stretched or lift his numb legs slight only to make the ache in shoulders more bewildering, and his head hidden in a hood.

Stiles’ tongue was heavy and his throat was hoarse from his incessant yelling, which he’d kept up even when his mouth had been stuffed with an old smelly rag and taped shut. Eventually, the tape had been tugged free and he’d been too weak to verbally react to feel of having the upper layers of skin on his lips and face ripped away.

That said, he’d managed to sink his teeth into his captor’s finger and get a bit of bittersweet retaliation when the rag was removed from his mouth. Stiles had a torn lip and nasty gouges on his chest from the werewolf’s claws, but the defiance had been worth the hurt. Stiles would not break, no matter what this sadistic Alpha did to him. He wanted to chuckle about the thought of briefly wounding the monster, but that took too much breath and the jostle would bring a sharp pain from his battered ribs.

Stiles grimaced at the muffled crash exploding into the tiny room that had been his hell for two weeks. He tried to right himself, stand a little straighter, show some sort of strength because from the sounds of his entrance, the Alpha was in a poor mood, which meant the torture would be worse than most days and Stiles wondered if this time he would break and beg for The Bite that had been offered to him after the first ten days of physical and mental abuse.

A cracked moan left Stiles when he heard the chain above his head snap like a twig and all the tension in his upper body was relieved at once. He was caught mid-fall by large hands and then strong arms that hugged his bruised ribs, making him let out another dry howl of pain. By the time he was taken down to the floor, Stiles could feel his mind and body edging toward a blackout and he tried to form words to snap something witty at the werewolf, but his damn tongue refused to unstick from the roof of his mouth. He hissed when his arms were thrown apart after the chain between the shackles was broken and he gasped wearily when his legs could finally come together to rest limply as he leaned against the other body — not by choice, but because he simply couldn’t move.

When the hood was yanked off his head, Stiles coughed at the sudden change in atmosphere. He blinked as he stared, trying to focus on the bloody hands that gripped him and moved him until he was suddenly on his back, which would feel glorious if he wasn’t twitching so damn much from the lack of tension in his limbs. As Stiles slowly widened his eyelids past half-mast, he realized the Alpha was speaking to him and then he realized that the face was the wrong Alpha.

“Talk! Speak! Move!” Derek shouted. “Stiles, do something!”

Stiles closed his eyes and smacked his dry lips before uttering a soft, “Woof.” He wished he had the strength to smile because Derek’s confused expression and wrinkled brow was hilarious.

“No moving!” Derek snapped when Stiles feigned an attempt to sit up. Stiles’ eyes rolled around in their sockets. Derek was so dramatic.

“He’s going to come back—” Stiles began quietly.

“He’s dead,” Derek said firmly before seething a breath. “I didn’t — I had to. I had to save the person — to save you,” he stammered, still shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought you were with Scott and Isaac.”

Closing his eyes again, Stiles attempted a sigh of annoyance. “I missed you,” he deadpanned and waited a second to let that slap Derek. “So, I found another Alpha to beat me up.”

Stiles finally managed a smile when he heard Derek take in a sharp, agitated breath through his nose. At least he could still manage to push buttons in his decrepit state.

“Easy, Gentle Giant,” Stiles tightly bit off as Derek pulled him off the floor, letting out an extended groan as he went upward. Grunting as he latched onto Derek for support because his shaky legs refused to cooperate, Stiles gripped at Derek for his attention. “Derek, he wanted to make me his pet. Not just a Beta, his pet who he could take with him on hunts — hunts for people.”

“I know,” Derek replied solemnly.

Stiles opened his mouth in alarm, wondering if all the Alphas were this evil and if others would have to be saved, but Derek sighed and rested his head against Stiles’ face, which baffled Stiles into silence. There was a little movement of Derek’s nose as he sniffed and brought a hand up to touch the front of Stiles’ destroyed and bloody shirt. Stiles just stared with his mouth agape and tried to process the nuzzling gesture, but he was too damn tired for this to be anything but freaking weird.

“Hospital,” Derek announced before Stiles found himself being hoisted up and thrown over a meaty shoulder like a sand bag. The wind knocked out of his lungs, Stiles needed a moment to focus before he could make a crack.

“Great,” he huffed as he winced with each step Derek took. “They’ll put you in handcuffs, I’ll explain the hazards of extreme bondage, and my dad will kill you twice before they let you go.”

Derek made a noise that could possibly be described as a growl. “We’re going to the hospital, Stiles, end of story.”

“Fin.”

“What?” Derek demanded.

“It’s French,” Stiles explained. “Fin — I’m ending the story for you.”

Stiles drooped with a strangely satisfied smile on his busted lips because he was pretty sure he could actually hear Derek’s internal screaming.


End file.
